Material Things
by JoulieRose
Summary: "After you left I realized what I did wrong. All this time I was treating you like the rarest diamond in the world, worth a price too innumerable to count, when I should have been treating you for what you really were: priceless." Holly J & Declan Story.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Hello all, I thought I'd try my hand at writing some Degrassi fanfiction. While I normally dabble in Marco stories, I really love Holly J and Declan as a couple, and think that the writers could really take the couple far if they wanted to. I love comments and suggestions!**

2:53 am, and the thought of Fiona buried under several layers of satin sheets, a drying trail of vomit crusted around her lips, comforts Declan in an almost sickening way. The lights are dimmed low within the loft, and with the absence of the Holly J and the ghost of the previous party's music ringing within his ears, he is able to take this stolen moment and loosen his tie. Suddenly it's become overwhelming tight around his neck. Suddenly this whole situation has become quite overwhelming in general.

The way she had looked at Sav had sickened him. He had wore his best suit, fresh off Armani Exchange's fall line, took two showers and sprayed on his favorite cologne, one of the most expensive he could attain at short notice, Michel Germain's Deauville Pour Homme, freshly imported straight from the testing labs in France. As soon as he had stepped into the archway of the loft he knew that he looked and smelled like a million bucks, and rightfully he should, not only because his attire was painfully expensive, but because he was a Coyne, and that's what is to be expected.

So it puzzled him greatly that Holly J showered Sav with such unadulterated adoration. No, not puzzled. Scared was a better word. It scared him because for the past four months he had spent his time back in Manhattan at Vanderbilt trying to erase her from his mind in any way possible—drugs, drinks, whatever he could get his hands on. The girls were a blur, blondes with nice tits, brunettes with thick waists, but the gingers…he could never handle the gingers. He'd get one sight of their hair color, and his stomach would flop uncontrollably. And he could never have sex with them. He would get as far as unbuckling his pants before he would feel a wave of disgust wash over him. All the while, he thinks bitterly now, Holly J was picking daisies and collaborating with Bhandari in Degrassi affairs, pure and impure.

His lip twitches. How dare she. How dare she break his heart. Fiona had told him to stay away from her, but he didn't listen. He couldn't. He was insanely attracted to her in a way he hadn't felt since two years ago, when he had told Rebecca he loved her, and found pictures in Bobby's cell phone of her going down on Travis two days later. Love and him could not coincide. Part of him wanted to agree, the other half wanted to fight it. He could have any girl he wanted. Any woman he wanted, for that matter. Yet he couldn't get over Holly J.

The sound of her heels on the concrete floor stops his heart. He looks up casually, but his hands are shaking. To cover, he slouches into the couch and eases his left hand into his pocket. Suddenly the unloosened tie feels like a noose around his neck. Her fragrance floats around him as she sits down, her strapless dress exposing her creamy shoulders and curved hips. He knows that she's talking, but the words are jumbled, and in his mind he knows she's not saying anything conductive to their relationship (or lack thereof) but he feels his mouth moving in reply, making idle talk. He knows that Fiona needs him. Perhaps he should move in, not even to get closer to Holly J, but to supervise.

Bobby had set Fiona back at least a year in her therapy, and while there was nothing he could have done at the time to help her, he could at least try and step in now. Right the wrongs of the past.

It is only when she mentions a cab that Declan's mind snaps back to attention. He moves over closer to her, his heart racing as he reaches out to brush the hair away from her shoulders. "No, about us…" he trails off, his voice fading off into a whisper. He knows that it's wrong. He knows that this is not how he operated—he was casual, smooth, suave. He could pay her for sex. He could have slipped drugs into her drink. There were a thousand ways he could have seduced her. But no, his heart took over, his stupid fucking blood blooded foolish heart.

He begins to kiss her shoulder lightly, dragging his lips across the soft skin. Her scent is wild strawberry shampoo. He remembers once that he had caught a draft of Anya wearing it during Valentines day, no doubt Sav had carelessly recycled his present and given it to her. He can feel her inching away from him slowly, so he wraps his arm around her waist to hold her within his place. He's more tempted than ever to slide his hand down to her ass, but he refrains; he already knows he's pushing boundaries as it is.

"I…thought we agreed this wasn't going to happen." Her voice is soft, faded, but still strong. But he hears the hitch in her voice as he swirls his tongue across one of the beauty marks on her back. He wants to grab her by the face and press his lips fervently against her, moan out between kisses "no, this is what you agreed" but he can't bring himself to do so. Instead he kisses lower, slightly using tongue, apprehensively. "No…we shouldn't be doing this," she continues.

Suddenly anger fills him, he pulls away, his eyes dilated with desire. "Come on," he breathes heavily, resisting the urge to add "love" at the end of the sentence. He pulls back her hair, ginger strands sliding between his fingers, and urges "this is right. You know it is. Please…" his lips tremble, so he forces a faux smile, but it dissolves as fast as it appeared. He can feel her tensing up, yet her breath is becoming slower as well, more aware. He knows that he's starting to affect her, that she's going to give in. He decides, desperately, to go in for the kill, his nose against her neck, his breath hot and moist against her skin. "I love you."

He has to kiss every inch of her. He begins to kiss harder on her neck, and he doesn't care that her necklace is in the way anymore, he slides he tongue between the black pearls. She tastes like vanilla and brown sugar. He kisses upwards on her neck, and slides his hand across her face to pull her towards him. As he hooks his thumb onto the rim of her lips, he feels her neck craning towards him. His heart starts racing faster.

She's hooked. Line and sinker.

The look on her face is plastered in his memory's walls. Her eyes are full of fear. He disregards that and presses his nose against hers, a last-willed Eskimo kiss. It's that faint, noble sign of intimacy that garners her parting her lips to meet his. He removes his thumb and slides it to the back of her neck, holding her in place as they begin to kiss.

Once, when him and Fiona were five, their mother took them to Italy to see fireworks. The display lasted for three days, and every night was a different theme. He had watched in awe as the colors bloomed around him in explosions of green, red and yellow, followed by purples and baby blues. The night sky was illuminated with a shower of light.

When he pressed his thumb into Holly J's cheek, and could literally feel the motion of her tongue slipping out to meet his; with his eyes closed, he witnessed those explosions once more.

As he opened his eyes, hers were still closed, but he didn't mind. She was back in his arms again. Fiona was knocked out for the night. There would be no interruptions. Nothing was going to go wrong.

He kissed her as if he was making up for the past four months, and in many ways he was. His hands traveled from her cheek to her neck before finally resting within her hair. His fingers threaded themselves into the ginger locks, and closed, holding her tightly within place. His other hand landed on her thigh, and slowly inched up her dress. As they kissed her breaths became heavier, and he felt her put a hand against his chest. "Wait," she said, finally, and the silence after her breaths began to echo in his eyes again. "If we're going to do this, let's do this properly."

He sat there for a moment, not quite sure of what was going on. They have had sex on couches at her house and at the pent house plenty of times. Most memorably that one time when she was wearing her work outfit. The thought of her bouncing up and down on him while wearing those cute little ribbons tied within her ponytails drove him wild…but that was besides the point.

As if reading his mind, and perhaps seeing the confusion on his face, she elaborates. "Just, give me a couple of minutes, okay? I'll meet you in the guest room." She doesn't look at him as she says this, instead busying herself with flattening out the wrinkles created on her dress.

Understanding, and not saying a word, Declan nods and gets up. Before he leaves, he bends down and tucks a strand of stray her behind her ear. As he begins to walk away he can hear her release a sigh—he's not sure, however, if it's one of lust, or one of relief.

* * *

The bay windows inside of the loft overlook the rooftops of Toronto. The walls in the guest room are painted royal purple, and large white drapes are pulled together in the corner. The moonlight streams between the bars and casts a faint pathway towards the bed.

Keep calm, this is nothing new, Declan breathes out to himself._ No, this is everything._ A voice in his head reminds him._ Everything is on the line._ This isn't their first time, no. And technically, it can't be considered make-up sex, because make-up sex actually means that you're making up to become something once more.

Anxiously, he kicks off his socks and begins to take off his vest. He can hear Holly J shuffling around inside of the bathroom, and he's wondering what's taking her so long. It's been almost fifteen minutes. Next his pants go, and soon he's sitting in his boxers, and his shirt is half unbuttoned. Just as he was about to get up to go and bring her into the room, she peeks her head through the door.

His eyes light up and he smiles, but he tries to play it cool. Easy, he reminds himself. "Hey…" his voice trails off as she steps forwards, wearing a strapless red bra and thong. As his eyes travel downwards she puts her hands on her hips and frowns at him. "A thong?" He muses, smirking.

"Party attire requires…party panties." She finishes lamely. She starts to walk back out the room, but Declan springs up and strides across the room. She stands there, pouting slightly, and he takes one hand and grabs her wrist while the other one slides under her chin and tilts it upwards.

"I like them. They hold a certain allure to them."

"Right." Holly J mumbles, deadpan, and he leans forwards and silences her with a kiss. He pulls her backwards towards the bed and climbs onto it, holding out his hand for her, as if ushering a princess into a carriage.

She looks at his hand for a second. "Declan…" She starts, but he shakes his head. Quietly, she takes his hand and climbs onto the bed.

As he pushes the duvet off to the floor he feels her hands on his shoulder blades. From behind she scuttles forwards on her knees and wraps her arms around his neck to unbutton his shirt. Feeling her fingers dance occasionally across his skin as she works on the buttons sends little sparks of electricity throughout his body. Once completely undone, she pauses, simply resting her hands on his chest.

His heartbeat seemingly vibrates between her fingers.

Her nails are painted crimson. Declan notices this as he takes her hand and presses his lips to it. As he turns around to look at her, he sees a lone tear escape from her eye. Learning forwards, he captures it with his tongue, and kisses her cheek. He presses her downwards into the sheets, fingers trembling, and begins kissing up and down her body. As he kisses downwards towards her navel Holly J squirms beneath him and threads her fingers into his hair.

He kisses in between her thighs and across her kneecaps before coming upwards again. From between his legs he peeks at her, and she sits upwards slightly, propping up a pillow underneath her arms. "What are you doing?"

"Shhh…" He whispers, and with his index finger he peels her underwear to the side. Now, in all of his life, he has never attempted this before. A lot of girls had asked him to, but he had always laughed at them, with a look of utter amusement on his face. Declan Coyne did not go down on anyone. In fact, you were lucky if he even considered you going down on him.

However, this was a special circumstance.

While smoking inside of Bobby's penthouse after school (pre-Fiona bashing) Declan had mused while sitting cross-legged, smoking a cigarello. "Women love it when you eat them out. Apparently it's a form of respect."

"Have you ever tried it?" Declan asked, blowing out smoke through his nose.

Bobby had licked his lips and smiled devilishly at him, "of course."

"Well, how did she like it?" Declan furrowed his thick brows, waiting for a response.

Tapping out the filter, Bobby had shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know." He took a drag, "ask your sister."

Although, after giving Bobby a black eye, he had forgotten about the conversation, the position he was in right now conjured up the memory.

Slowly, he had stuck out his tongue, and began to lick the inner fold of her thigh. He heard her sigh in content, and it fueled him to continue. He began to lick her in all of her entirety. He held her thighs apart at either side of her legs, working his tongue in and out of her. Somewhere along the line she began to moan, thrashing around in the sheets, and he had to tighten his grip, his fingers pressing into her thighs. He could feel becoming wetter within his mouth. As her moans became louder he was startled when she shot up and grabbed his head upwards.

"What?" He asked, surprised, wiping at his chin.

"I don't want to come without you." She says breathlessly, and begins kicking her thong off of her. For a second he wonders if Sav has seen her in that pair before, but the thought leaves his mind when she pulls off his shirt and begins to tug at his boxers. He obliges, rolling on to his back to allow her to take them off fully.

From there something changes within their chemistry. Holly J began to kiss at him feverishly, biting on the inside of his neck. He pushed her downwards onto the bed and climbed on top of her, grabbing her breasts with his hand and playing with her nipples. As they wrestled physically, Holly J pulling him in closer and closer against her body, trying to have him mold into her, and Declan struggling between kisses to gather enough air, he feels her begin to spread her legs.

Her hand snakes down and grasps him, and he inhales, the feeling of her cool fingers there. He moans into her neck, and positions himself between her legs. "Holly J—" He thrusts accidentally, and she inhales sharply, but he's inside of her, and she's wrapped around him, and everything is fucking perfect.

It's not hard for them to fall back into their regular sync. He bites the inside of her neck as he thrusts, holding her hips tightly under his grip. She wraps her legs around his waist and holds onto the headboard as he pushes deeper inside of her, and she's so tight and wet and amazing and beautiful that Declan swears in that small, impossible, pocket moment of love, that they have never been broken up at all.

Her mouth is warm and inviting, and they tangle together, her hair blanketing the pillows. From above her body, he feels like he can see the world in a whole new light. The moon follows the contours of her body and the light dips in between her legs. This is the first time they have had sex without a condom. The feeling of him raw within her blows his mind—their sex was pure, there are no barriers, no secrets, no more lies. Just him. And her. And this moment. Forever.

He kisses everywhere his body allows. Her neck, her nose, her lips. "You're beautiful. So fucking beautiful. More beautiful than anything. Roses. Diamonds. Silver. Anything."

She smiles as he talks, her lips trembling in pleasure. Her crimson nails drag red tracks down his back. His thrusts become more erratic and frantic, and he knows that he's going to come soon. He pushes her legs upwards into the air and settles himself between her legs once more, rubbing her in time with thrusts. His other hand threads his fingers into hers, and she holds him upwards, meeting his thrusts.

"Tell me…when…" he breathes out, ragged, his eyelids heavy.

Holly J opens her mouth, her lipstick partially wiped away, about to answer when he feels her clench tightly around him. She throws her head back in ecstasy and lets out a long, deep moan that resonates within the concrete walls of the room. Feeling her snap tightly around him with several more thrusts he looks into her eyes, frantic, knowing he's at the edge.

"I'm on birth control," she says, still riding on her orgasm, her voice shuddery. He nods, and with one final thrust, he releases within her, grunting in pleasure.

Once done, he pulls out of her and kisses her stomach and her arms before pulling the duvet upwards and covering her body. He looks down at his boxers still on the bed and frowns at the stain on them. Those were Prada. It doesn't matter, he has thirteen more pairs. Prada was replaceable, Holly J was priceless.

As he laid down next to her, he noticed that her breathing had already evened out, and that she was falling asleep. He kissed her temple, brushing hair away from her forehead. "I love you, Holly J." He whispers. Tonight everything was infinite.

It was tomorrow that he was scared of.


	2. The Morning After

**2. The Morning After**

The shifting of the thick duvet from off his chest stirs Declan into post-coital consciousness. All of his limbs were tingling, Holly J's remnant fingerprints from last night burning little forget-me-not bruises into his skin. He could feel a bruise blooming on the bottom of his hip on the right side. Their love, in his mind, was oozing from him physically as well as emotionally.

When he looks up Holly J is fiddling with her dress, trying to pull it back up. He watches her quietly for a moment, smiling. He can't help but smile. He feels as if blue birds should come flying in through the window, carrying wreaths and berries within their mouths, to drape across the bed, and sparrows to come and place a flower headdress upon her head. He shakes his head as he tries to think properly because she's talking about, but oh god, what a lovely voice she has. And skin. And neck.

"Man, this has been one amazing night. First the awards, then we reconnected. I'm just so happy to feel this close to you again." He exhales, and takes their fingers together, threading them as one.

Holly J looks down with a look of contempt on her face, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Cab's probably downstairs." She says slowly, in a dethatched voice.

He nods understandingly. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course." And with that, heels in place, and dress smoothed out properly, she gets up and walks out the room. Declan smiles to himself, feeling accomplished. As he falls back into the pillows, he can't think of how anything today could go wrong.

* * *

When Fiona comes into the apartment the lights are dimmed down. She tosses her keys into the glass bowl that is on the side table by the door before she walks across the hallway into the living room. "Declan?" She calls out, flipping on the light. There's no answer. Shrugging, she drops her Gucci purse on the couch and sits down, leaning backwards to kick off her heels. She had a very long day at Degrassi today.

For starters, she had to deal with Holly J crying wolf, claiming that she was forced into sex with Declan. When she had heard that her stomach had dropped to the floor. There was no way that Declan would ever do something like that. Men who did that were cowards and bastards—Bobby would do something like that. She had clenched her teeth, walking down the hallways between classes looking for her, but after she had handed her the letter that Declan had scrawled out to her hastily in shaky writing before packing his bags earlier that day, she had vanished.

She would have called him, but by now he was probably on the plane, and it'd be a long flight back. She picked up her iPhone, noticing the notification blinking on the lockscreen. There were two missed calls from Holly J, a picture text message from a grade tenner depicting some sort of chain letter, and a text message from Marco DelRossi, whom she had met through Declan, who was a part time teacher-writer for one of the scene papers in downtown.

She unlocked the phone and listened to the first voicemail:

"Fiona, I just left the loft. Do you think when you get the chance you could check on Declan? He seemed…really different right before I left. I just called things off…again. Oh god, did I make the right choice? I mean, I really like Sav. I love Sav…right?"

Her voice was heavy and rushed, as if she was covering up for the fact that she had been sobbing. The phone beeped, and clicked the message underneath it.

"Hello Ms. Coyne, please call this number back as soon as possible. It would seem that your order of block ice has been shipped to the wrong address—"

She deleted the latter message and placed her phone next to her. A shower, that's what she needed. She would take a hot shower, perhaps order some gourmet food from that new place up the block (they made the cutest little knishes ever!) and do a quick facial before attempting homework.

After gathering her towel and freshly imported peppermint soap from Ireland (Irish Springs wasn't cutting it for her), she flipped on the light within the marble bathroom, finding it odd that the water was running. In fact, the room was quite foggy from all the steam that was wafting around in it.

Grumbling, she walked over and yanked back the curtain, reaching for the knob to turn the water off when she saw a figure in the tub and jumped backwards, a hand clasped over her mouth.

Declan was laying there in his blue sweater, a bottle of Monet laying limply against his chest. His lips were pale blue and his eyes were closed. Two bottles of Fiona's prescribed Donoryml, 25mg per pill, was emptied out on the floor. As hard as she tried, she was not able to suppress the scream of anguish that spilled out of her mouth.

* * *

**Hello Hello, all! I'm glad that you all liked the last chapter. I have a couple of things in mind for what I'm going to do, so this one is a little shorter than the last one was.**

**DollyJArmy:** Aww, thanks so much. I'm a huge fan of your tumblr!

**E-Dubs13:** Thank you! I hope you like this one as well.

**CandyLuver1910:** Thanks! Enjoy!

**Jiberty Fan:** ! I really loved this review. I really hated how they portrayed Declan in this episode, and they're such powerful actors, they deserve more time together. Also, they're really ruined Sav's character, there's not much progression in him anymore. Thank you very much, I love Holly J and Declan together as well, of course.


	3. In The Hospital

**Hello all, sorry it took so long. However, the next chapter is here. We start with a flashback and then hop right into the story. Hope you enjoy. And please review!**

**

* * *

**

"Summer time, 1976. And we all thought that we were lovers with one another. Those were when things were easier, you know? Because all you needed was one pill and you were transported to this place of…euphoria." Laura Coyne had a serene look across her face as she elegantly withdrew from the end of the blunt she had between her fingers and exhaled an exuberant cloud of wispy smoke into the air. "And well, that's how I got pregnant the first time."

"But you've only had a set of twins, mother." Fiona pointed out, pulling her sunglasses down. "Us."

"Oh, well…" Her mother trailed off, taking another inhale. "Of course. Right."

They were sitting on the balcony of their Manhattan loft, Laura in the lounge chair in her polka-dot vintage bikini, Fiona holding up a tanning mirror to her upper neck, and Declan and Holly J nestled in the corner (the former cringing at his mother's admission), nursing Bloody Mary drinks with little umbrellas in them.

With Fiona and Holly J just starting to get along, and her finally having a day off from her internship, they had all retired in for the day—spa treatment for the girls while Declan canceled their reservation at The Blue Water Grill in Union Square for a more 'sensual' idea that had popped into his head.

"Well, this had been fun kids, but I should go and tidy up before your father gets home. You know how he gets when he knows that I've been smoking." She stood up and wiped the excess ash off the comforter of the chair before she started walking back towards the double doors of the balcony, large tinted glass windows with an off-white finish. As she kicked the towels away from the door at the bottom to block the smell of marijuana from floating inside of the loft she pulled down her glasses again, "and not a word to him of it either, understand."

"We know, we know." Fiona said, waving her away. "I already requested David to come by, and he should be preparing lunch for you. I know how you get."

"Fabulous!" Their mother clapped her hands together, "I was just thinking how wonderful a full pot roast would be right now." They all tried to suppress their laughter as their mother shakily walked out the doors, no doubt thinking of several ways to prepare it.

Once she was out of earshot, Fiona dropped the tanning mirror and sat up fully, stretching very cat-like. "Alright, what's the plans for tonight? I was thinking somewhere chill- like perhaps going to the museum and then for a jog afterward? We need to get some of that Canadian weight off of you."

Declan furrowed his great eyebrows and put down his drink. "I was thinking of something a little less Three's Company, ergo Jack and Chrissy without Janet, Fi."

Fiona blanched. Seeing her frustration, Holly J began to interject. "Well, I'd love to spend time with both of you—"

"How dare you refer to me as Janet!" Fiona roared, waving her hands in the hair. "My hair color is a darker, chocolate shade than hers. Declan Coyne, you take that back."

Declan held up his hands in self-defense, afraid she was going to wield the mirror at him. "I yield."

Fiona scoffed, "I'll go and play along with Tinsley, then." She stood up and adjusted her bikini straps before waddling off in her flip flops, the paper still wound tightly across her freshly painted toes. "Have fun, love birds." She stuck her tongue out at them as she left, making sure to close the doors behind her.

Once she was gone Holly J let out a long sigh. "What's the matter?" Declan eyes, worry written all over his face. She looked at him in his entirety, his khaki pants, blue button down polo shirt and Versace loafers. His hair was slicked back, and shorter than she last remembered it to be. This had to be a dream, it couldn't be real. She couldn't really be in love with a boy so wonderful, so handsome, so powerful, so…rich. She was no gold digger by any means, but it had to be acknowledged that this was a whole new force a boy that she had yet to get her hands upon. How long would this last?

She shook the thought out of her head, instead opting for a more friendly answer. "I can never tell if she's joking or not."

"I'm glad that you two are getting along." He said quietly, taking her hands within his. "It's important for her to branch out and meet new people. If not she becomes…"He trailed off, trying to think of a good word. "Stagnant."

Holly J nodded, "I understand completely. Plus, with having you for a twin it's mind-boggling enough as it is. I see where she's coming from."

"Hmmm." Declan murmured, sliding his hands up from hers to her shoulder blades. "You know, Ms. Sinclair, it's not nice to tease."

Holly J tilted her head sideways to accommodate for the sudden lack of space between them. "What are you talking about?"

"That cherry lip-gloss?" Declan noted, putting his finger to her lip. "I've smelt it on you this whole time we've been here." He moved his to his lips and licked it, smiling at the taste. "I'd think you're trying to seduce me."

Holly J put a hand on his check, smiling brightly. "Oh, then you'd love my piña colada."

He kissed her neck and then her lips and pulled away, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "How would you like it if I called up Charles right now? We could drive down to the pier and he'd bring the helicopter 'round and we could fly over the Manhattan skyline?" He whispered, biting the inner most regions of her ear.

She opened her mouth but he silenced her, continuing on; "Could drink Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque Champagne, circa 1996…" he slid his tongue down her neck, and planted a kiss at her jaw line, "…fuck on the carpeted floor with the whole city as our audience?"

She moaned beneath his touch. "Decl—"

"Have you ever had an orgasm five-thousand feet above ground? The whirl of the helicopter's blades could cancel out your screams." He bit the inside of her lip hard enough to bruise and her eyes fluttered, her cheeks flushing rouge. "Tell me now, I can make it happen."

"How long would we have?" She mumbled underneath his lips.

"Hours. Days." He shrugged, running his fingers through her hair. "Forever?"

* * *

When she had gotten the call from Fiona, who was hysterically wailing into the phone in a slurred voice, she had been sitting on the edge of Sav's bed, listening to him play Paisley Jacket for the thousandth time. As sickeningly charming as it was, she had already knew earlier that she would have to leave soon because it was getting dark and his parents were about to come home.

"This new sound mixer I just got will be great for the talent showcase." Sav said after he had finished, looking over at a large blue box fondly. "Well, it will be as soon as I learn how to configure it. Is everything okay? You look pale." He touched her shoulder and she jumped, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Yeah…" she trailed off, then strengthened her voice, "yes, yes. I just realized that I have to…go. But I'll see you in study hall tomorrow." She gathered her things quickly, kissed him on his forehead and rushed out of the room, into the streets.

The sky was a steely gray as she rushed in her lime green heels and orange pea-coat to the street corner, where she hailed a taxi. The phone call was rushed, and jumbled, but she was able to conclude that Declan had somehow attempted to overdose on some pills and alcohol, which was something that was extremely out of character for him. If anything—heaven forbid it happened—it would be Fiona of all people who did it.

When she arrived her heart was racing as she followed the directions of the nurses to his room. Fiona was sitting there in a black dress, her mascara smudged. Of course, she had found time to change for such a tragic event. She could also smell the alcohol coming off of her in waves. Fiona embraced her automatically, sobbing and heaving on her shoulder. "I don't know what happened!"

Holly J cringed, her stomach churning. She knew what happened.

She walked over to the bed slowly, to see him laying there, pale and limp.

"He's been unresponsive—they pumped his stomach, and put him on some heavy medication, so they said he'll come to eventually. But it's just so hard to see him sleeping like this."

Holly J bit her lip as she placed her hand on his open palm.

"Do you know what happened?" Fiona asked, her voice desperate. "Did you two get into a fight?"

"How long is he going to be in here for?" Holly J asked, avoiding the question.

"A week, tops."

She pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, her eyes steely and cold. Fiona took out a dark purple handkerchief and pressed it to her eyes and then her nose, making weak, hiccup sobs.

Holly J felt her phone vibrate in her pocket to see that she had one, unopened email.

When she looked at the sender she almost dropped the phone.

**Subject: Sorry**

**Sender: Declan C.**

_After you left I realized what I did wrong. All this time I was treating you like the rarest diamond in the world, worth a price too innumerable to count, when I should have been treating you for what you really were: priceless._

_I love you. I'm sorry._

Holly J looked at the date to see that it was from several hours ago. With the rain delaying her internet service on her phone, she had just now gotten it. Which means she could have called him and had a chance to stop him. Had a chance to tell him maybe she loved him too. That she needed time.

A single tear fell from her eye onto the pristine white bed sheets. The wave of guilt that wracked her suddenly made her stomach lurch and she scrambled from her chair just in time to locate the garbage can and heave her voiceless sorrow into it. Fiona came over to her and gathered her hair back into a sloppy pony-tail, kissing her forehead as she did so. Holly J felt her knees buckle so she sat on the floor slowly, putting her hands on her head.

She looked like a little ballerina doll on the floor, broken and defeated.


	4. Home Again

Two weeks.

It was two weeks later when Holly J finally saw Declan again. Well, that was a lie. She saw him the first week while he was in the hospital, mostly while he was drifting between consciousness. She would hold her purse in one hand, and his in the other, while Fiona sat across from them in the corner, texting rapidly on her phone and blowing through wads of chewing gum. "It has nicotine in it," she would say, waving her hand carelessly. "I need a fix somehow."

Mostly, she stayed quiet. Holly J had learned earlier on that the best defense mechanism was silence. She just sat there and observed tiny, small details and let them correlate in her mind later on. She would watch the way his bright green eyes would roll back and forth casually while he slept sometimes, the slight flutter of his eyelids as they traveled. Sometimes he hummed in his sleep—or was that him wheezing? Sometimes his fingers would clench around hers, and she would feel a great surge of panic to get up and run. If he opened his eyes and looked at her, she would be trapped. What would she say? What could she say? "Sorry Declan, for breaking your heart and making you drink?" No. That wouldn't work at all.

"I'm not mad at you," Fiona said suddenly on the fifth day. She had on a floor-length purple dress, and thick, clunky black jewelry. Eyeliner extra heavy. She looks tired, yet smells like lavender.

Holly J looked up, startled out of her thoughts. Declan's hand felt feather-light within hers. "What?"

"For everything that's happening," Fiona said, looking Holly J straight in her eyes. "I'm not mad. There's a lot about Declan that's…complicated."

"I know." Holly J mumbled, looking back down at his calm expression, soft lips and checkered white hospital gown.

"You don't." Fiona whispered, but when Holly J looked up, Fiona was back to texting again.

School left her feeling numb. Student Council meetings, Sav touched her thigh underneath the tables while he rambled on about trying to get sweet potatoes fries on the menu, and whether or not Adam should be allowed in the female bathroom. Bullshit politics. She teetered around in her heels and her heavy coats, and sat through class and took notes. She was strong. She was powerful. She held her head high. Yet she still felt like suddenly everything was wrong, as if she was living a lie. Which is why when she sees Declan again, she doesn't know how to react.

It's been two weeks later, and Fiona invited her up to the loft for some coffee and tea. Holly J didn't know why exactly she had agreed to it, simply for the fact that she didn't really want to be around her right now, and also due to the fact that she had a major test coming up. As she came up in the elevator she heard voices wafting through the door. She put her hand on the doorknob and it was already unlocked. When she turned the knob and stepped in, her eyebrows raised.

Declan was sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. And a girl was sitting in his lap. They seemed to be in the middle of an intimate moment, her fingers were deep within his wildly ruffled hair, and he had his hands tight around her waist. They also speaking in French. Upon the door opening, however, they both looked up. Declan made a motion with his hands and she got up, quickly, and rushed over to Holly J to take her coat, saying a bunch of gibberish as she goes. After she takes her coat and leaves the room, Holly J crosses her arms. "Declan?" She asks, not quite sure how to react.

Declan scratches his hair casually and yawns. "Marcille. Great maid. Picked her out of a line-up of twenty three, but that's a whole different story." He blew out a ring of smoke and patted the couch next to him. "Have a seat?"

"You really shouldn't be smoking." Holly J says, fanning the smoke away.

Declan shrugs. "There's a lot of things I shouldn't be doing." He takes another drag, slowly, smiling around the filter. "Funny to see you here."

"Why do say that?" She asks this, her voice low. Declan looks tired, and heavy. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his pajama pants seem to pool around him.

"No reason." He shrugs again and sits up, leaning forwards to ash the cigarette out on the coffee table. "Fiona isn't here."

"Where is she?"

"Went out to go shop real quick." Declan replies, and Marcille sticks her head in through the doorway. She's wearing a maid's outfit and too much makeup. Holly J furrows her eyebrows at her. She's speechless. There's nothing to say. After seeing him venerable for such a long period of time, to see him act so indifferent makes her feel nervous.

"Should we talk…you know, about everythi—" Holly J begins when Marcille interrupts her.

"Mr. Coyne. Your bath is ready."

Declan stands up, dusting ash off his shirt, mumbles something about dry cleaning and then turns to Holly J. His eyes seem glossy. "No. Why would we?" As he walks to the bathroom door, the last thing he says to her is "Fiona should be home soon" before the door clicks shut behind him.

Holly J bites the inside of her cheek.

What?


End file.
